Thoughts
by The Dishwasher
Summary: It wasn't the same... Buffy's musings on life, the universe, and everything. Slight AU, Buffy POV, depressingish. Have fun!


Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

It wasn't the same.

No matter how much I squinted, and looked and stared until my eyes bled tears, it wasn't the same.

Harsh.

Loud.

The noise of a whisper hurts me.

It's too sudden, although it's been a year.

Silk makes by skin raw. It slides against my shoulders, _her_ dress, it's so pretty, floaty, reminiscent…But it has form, and lines, and color, and it kills me.

These people my friends, we've been through so much together, but are they the same as they were before? Are these the kids from junior year in Sunnydale High?

God, that was so long ago.

Xander's less goofy, and Willow has grown up. Me? I died. Twice.

Did I miss something when I lay in that coffin beneath the three feet of earth, in silence, in stillness, in Death? Well, my _body_, at any rate. Where _I_ was, it was safe, and serene, and fuzzy. Like I was in a cloud.

It seems like that to me. Cause, when I came back, they were all different. Did my death change them all that much? Will got high on magic, Xander almost got married, and Spike…

I don't know what that was. Is. Will be.

Why did I come running to _him_, the vampire that I failed to dust on numerous occasions. When I was a junior year, I hated him.

Do I still hate him? It's hard to tell. _He's_ not the same anymore either, damn never-supposedly-changing vampire. He has a soul, and he is in love with me.

Spike. Me. I'm still struggling to understand.

I'm not sure if I loved him. I don't think I wanna know.

Turns out that super Riley got himself hitched. Congratulations, Agent Finn, you can do your Bond-ness with someone who appreciates it. May you have a long and happy life with perfect kids. Just cause _you're_ a freak doesn't mean that you can ever give up hope of living like you're not, and even falling in love. No, that clause only comes with Buffy Summers.

Do you know what it feels like for me to kick a rock in frustration? It hurts. It's vivid. It's like the un-Disneyfied Andersen mermaid walking on knives. She didn't have much luck in her lovelife either.

Let me clarify that – she was always chasing after the one thing that she couldn't have. He didn't know she existed, and he married another.

I had love. Once. It came to me on the wings of the night, and it was wide and big and overwhelming.

I wasn't chasing after anything. I had it.

Then one day, I didn't.

You know, when Dawnie hugs me it hurts a lot less. Before, I couldn't stand it, it suffocated me. It cut off my newly reimbursed circulation, and I couldn't tell her to stop, because I was all she had.

Time helps. Now, my sister can hold be and I'm fine. It hurts a little still, but I'm great.

It's not the same. It won't ever be.

Sometimes I wonder, what if I'd have let her jump? What if I didn't run up to the tower?

I wanted her to jump.

And then again I didn't.

So I jumped instead, and I screwed up my life even more. It's on a whole new screwed level. You can't screw up as much as me. I'm the champion of screwness.

Does she know what I went through to give her the luxury of sipping hot cocoa late in the evening? Does she care?

She's my sister. I believe it, and so does everyone. Even her.

But she's not. She isn't really there at all. She wasn't there. Some monks chanted, then 'poof' and a teen brat key appears out of nowhere. Does that make her anything? She's made out of me, apparently, but it doesn't make a difference.

I'm alone.

I fought against Willow, and my friends are drifting farther away from me as I speak.

Mommy died.

She left me here, with my make believe kid sister, my magic addict friend, the vampire who loves me, the ex turned once more vengeance demon and her boyfriend…

She left me, and her dress burns my skin, and it reminds me of her oh so much, and I can't even wear this damn dress because I died and nothing is the same.

I found her on the couch, and I knew she was dead, but I wouldn't accept it, and I cried and cried and cried.

She's gone. All gone. And I have to deal. I thought I grew up before, but now I understand that I wasn't. That no one is. That we all pretend, but really we're scared of knowing that we're all by ourselves in the world, and so we never really grow up.

Apart from that I'm not scared of being alone. I'm just sad.

I can't quit.

I tried dying, but they brought me back.

I tried running away, but I came back.

No matter what I do I can't escape this Hellmouth. I don't know what to do.

And now this.

This flimsy piece of paper doesn't hurt my hands. I scrunched it up and threw it at the door, and it didn't hurt.

Here it is, un-scrunched and flattened out.

Dawn must have heard me cry. She does that sometimes, she stands just outside my door, to the right, so that I can't see her shadow, and she listens. I don't know what to say to her. I don't want to say anything at all.

He sent me a damn letter.

Now I see that a lot has happened since graduation, when he walked out of my life. Would it have been less screwy if he stayed right here with me? Would there have been a chance that I wouldn't have died? That I could have had a shot at happy like Initiative boy?

It's all crinkled and stained with my tears, but I can still read it. For the countless time I read it. The words don't change: it's still the same.

He has a son. An eighteen year old son, some portal incident and a different time scale. He was with Darla. My mommy was buried, and he was with that vampire bitch.

I guess I was no better. I can't judge.

Darla killed herself, and Connor was born.

Then the prophesy. Oh, there's always one of those, isn't there? Do I recall a prophecy that told me I would die at sixteen at the hands of the Master? Or a prophesy about a key? Or the end of the world? 

This was one about a vampire with a soul turning human.

Shanshu. 

Whatever.

He did it, whatever he had to do.

Angel, you've successfully averted three apocalypses. For your prize – humanity!

He shanshued alright.

He's human.

He's getting married to Cordelia.

And Buffy Summers, wait for it, has been invited to the wedding as an important guest.

This was _my_ dream. _My _desire. _My _wish.

I wanted Angel to be with me, and we could have kids. He said he couldn't. Liar.

He said he could never make anyone happy. Liar.

LIAR!

He's got everything and I have nothing. I have fake memories of Dawnie and me in the park in LA. I have real memories of dying, of heaven…

I have memories of my mom, and the cookies she used to bake, with the chocolate chips half melted.

Memories of Will, Xand and I hanging at the Bronze, laughing and slaying.

Memories of Riley, and Spike.

But also the memories of _him_, being with him, kissing him, sending him to hell.

He's a part of me. Now he's all hers.

This is all supposed to make me stronger. How? I'm already strong. With me, it makes me wooden, and it slowly turns my heart to ice. I'm always hurt by the ones I love.

I want to be selfish. I want to yell and scream that it isn't fair.

I want to freeze a moment, an instant, and hold onto it forever, and squeeze it, and keep it in a locket on a silver chain.

Time keeps on moving, and everything changes.

Nothing is the same ever again.


End file.
